The Deep Dark Hole
by Gleefully Wicked
Summary: A psychiatrist is hired to venture into the deep, dark hole that is Wednesday Addams' mind. Lets hope she goes easy on him.  Movieverse. Rated for Wednesday's messed up sense of humor. Title based on my favorite quote from the musical.
1. The New Patient

**Authors note: This came to me one night when I was trying to fall asleep without my sleeping pills(not the greatest plan). With a little bit of encouragement from one of the greatest Addams Family writers ever, Child of a Broken Dawn, I decided to write it. So here it is.**

**The story is going to be entirely in the psychiatrist's POV. Almost everything italicized is **_**Dr. Jones' notes about Wednesday's behavior.**_

**Yay! I own Dr. Jones(no, not the Harrison Ford Dr. Jones). Sadly, I don't own his patient or the rest of her family.**

When I first became a child psychiatrist, I swore to myself that there would be no case I couldn't handle. This remained true for nearly twenty-five years. I dealt with kids with depression, kids with anger management problems, abuse cases, and the occasional terminally ill kid in need of counseling. I'd been punched in the face six times, four times been kicked in the shin, twice had my life threatened, and once been stabbed in the arm with a pen. These incidents didn't stop me, in fact, they made me stronger. So of course I accepted when one of the local public schools asked me to take on the case of one of their sixth graders.

Apparently, the day before they called me, the girl attempted suicide. She had been put on twenty-four hour watch at the hospital before she was released to her parents. She claimed she wasn't going to try to kill herself again but the school had noticed she'd had social problems before, so they called me and requested that I see her every day after school for a few weeks. That had been a week ago.

Now, I sat at my desk awaiting my new patient's arrival. I glanced down at my watch. 3:25. The girl would be arriving any minute. I picked up the gold-plated name plaque off my desk. _Dr. Stuart Jones Ph.D. _It had taken me twelve years of college to get where I was. I'd helped so many children since then. I'd even let my personal life take a few hits in the process. It had all been worth it though. I sighed and put the plaque back on my desk.

Just after I set it down, my office door opened. In stepped an unhappy looking, incredibly pale girl wearing an old-fashioned black dress and had her matching hair in tight braids. This was most definitely my patient.

"Hello. You must be Wednesday." I greeted her warmly with a smile. She scowled back at me before setting down a leather messenger bag and sitting in one of the arm chairs at the side of the room. I quickly picked up my favorite pen and worn out notepad. If there's one thing I'd learned over the years, it's that the sooner you get to analyzing a patient, the sooner you can find ways to relate to them.

She sat with posture a concert pianist would be jealous of, but seemed incredibly uncomfortable. _Very tense and uncomfortable. Trust issues? _She stared straight ahead out the window. Without looking at me she said in an emotionless voice,

"I'm going to say right now that despite what everyone at the my asinine school says, I did not try to kill myself. I also cannot be forced to talk to you, so I won't." she then reached into her bag and pulled out a book. _Refuses to admit she attempted suicide. Very closed off._

She read her book and never so much as glanced up at me for almost the entire session. I managed to catch the title of the book, The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe_._ _Interesting choice of literature for a twelve year old. If I remember correctly, Poe is pretty famous for his macabre writing style. Perhaps it's where she got the idea of suicide into her head? If anything, it is a clear indication of intelligence. _Just as our time ran out, she closed her book and put it back in her bag.

"Are we really going to have to do this again tomorrow?" She asked.

"Yes Wednesday." I replied to her with a touch of sympathy in my voice. If she felt that I truly understood her pain, she would feel more comfortable with talking to me about her deepest thoughts.

"Then I suggest you do your reading. I'm sure my hospital records will tell you a few of my dirty secrets. But just so know, your tactics to get me to trust you are not working." with that, she turned her back to me and strode out of my office without another word.

I sighed and looked down at my notes. I didn't manage to get much considering she had barely spoken to me, but I figured I was off to a good start. I also figured that Wednesday was right. Maybe her hospital records would tell me something.

**I know it's kind of short. This is mostly an introduction to the rest of the story. I'd love to hear your opinions on it so far so review! Constructive criticism is welcome.**


	2. Wednesday Speaks

**Le gasp! An update! I'm so glad you all enjoyed the first chapter so I'll be continuing this story. YAY!**

**Wednesday: You're forcing me to endure therapy. This is not a cause for "yay".**

**Me: Wednesday, I promise you'll eventually have some fun with this.**

**Wednesday: I better or it'll be YOU in therapy.**

**Me: *gulps* Let's get on with the fanfic now, shall we?**

**Wednesday: Coward.**

**No I do not own the Addams Family. I do own the good Doctor and his secretary though.**

"Dr. Jones, I have the files you asked for." I looked up to see my secretary, Kate holding an incredibly overstuffed manila folder. She set it down on my desk with a plop.

"Thank you, Kate." I said as I slid the folder closer to me.

"So is this kid really messed up?" she asked as she stabbed the foil of a gum container with her acrylic nails. She popped a piece in her mouth.

"You know I can't talk to you about my patients." I reminded the curly-haired, bleach blonde woman of about thirty. She nodded and returned to whatever she had been doing before. I suspected she'd been talking to one of her friends over the phone about everything **but** anything work related but chose not to say anything about it. Instead I turned my attention to the task at hand; sifting through the huge folder of health records for anything that could have possibly caused Wednesday Addams psychological harm. I once again took out my notepad and turned back to the page I'd written about Wednesday on.

The top file was a copy of her birth certificate(a typical one from Bellevue Hospital). Stapled to the back of it, however was a paper diagnosing a slightly severe form of the birth defect postaxial polydactyl and an x-ray showing an infant foot with six fully formed toes. I looked through the rest of the files for information about a removal surgery, but found nothing. _Possibly still has an extra toe = insecurities? Question further._

I continued through the records. One thing I noticed was that Wednesday had had several childhood accidents that could easily be credited to either youthful clumsiness and foolishness, or ongoing abuse. Things like second degree burns on her wrist she was five, or a concussion when she was nine. On all occasions it had been noted that Wednesday claimed she was in pain but never so much as said the word, 'ow' they figured she must have a very high pain tolerance.

None of these accidents were anything I hadn't seen before. That is, until she was ten and was brought in with an arrow stuck in her left palm. I was so busy gaping at the x-ray showing an arrow going all the way through her hand that I didn't hear the door open.

"I told you they would tell you something." Wednesday Addams' voice said from across my office. I jumped slightly in surprise but covered it up and smiled at her.

"Welcome back. Are you going to talk to me today?" I asked her.

"Yes." She said and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk. She wore the exact same dress she'd had on the day before.

"Really? And what made you decide that?" I asked as I picked up my notepad.

"Well, I figured that since my parents are paying you a ridiculous sum of money per hour, I should at least let you attempt to study my psyche. However, I warn you that it isn't pretty and you might suffer permanent psychological damage." She said all of this with a completely straight face. I chuckled. _Dry sense of humor. _

"That's good. It should make my job a lot easier." I said. "So considering you've decided to talk to me, how was school today?" She sighed.

"Well lets see… Nobody but my brother talked to me, my teacher assigned a few meaningless and repetitive assignments, I imagined all of the possible ways I could burn down the school without getting caught, and I drew a graphic and gory picture of my teacher's demise. A pretty average day, really." _Slightly narcissistic and very morbid. _

"Why don't people talk to you, Wednesday?" I asked the easiest question possible as a cowardly way to avoid tackling her other, much bigger issues.

"Maybe they just can't handle a ball of sunshine like me?" She said sarcastically. I gave her a look telling her I wasn't amused by her ways of avoiding explaining her problems. "Or perhaps they still hold a grudge against me for the time I poisoned the class hamster in first grade." she added. I could tell she still wasn't being totally serious. _Uses a dark sense of humor as a defense mechanism for being labeled as a social outcast by her classmates._

"But enough about my asinine school. Why don't we talk about what you found in my hospital records. I'm sure there are a few noteworthy things in there." I was very surprised that this was the same girl who didn't say a single word about herself in our last session just the day before. I'd been working with children long enough to know that she was either working an angle, or figured that she was smarter than me. I decided to play along and went with her very first health problem.

"You were born with Postaxial Polydactyl." I stated. She nodded. "Do you still have an extra toe on your right foot?" I asked.

"Yes." she answered simply. "And to answer your unasked questions; no, it does not make me feel insecure about myself, yes, it could have been removed but my parents refused, I did not try to kill myself at all, let alone because I have an extra digit, and yes, shoe shopping is awkward. Let's move on now, shall we?" _Seems to show_ _no obvious insecurities over having a birth defect. Probably should investigate the mysterious arrow case further._

"How about the time when you had an arrow through your hand. What's the story behind that?" I asked as calmly as possible. I'd seen a lot of kids that had endured injuries but this had to have been the most unique and I was curious to know how it happened.

"My crossbow accidentally went off while I was repairing it." Wednesday replied nonchalantly.

"Your _crossbow_?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes. It my first one. It had been passed down through my mother's family from Tueur Brutale Femme Mal Habillée, famous Cranequinier in the 16th century French army. Unfortunately, it was becoming increasingly high-maintenance for me to use on a daily basis and is now retired to a display mount on my bedroom wall. And please excuse my accent, I haven't quite perfected French yet." Wednesday explained. _Uses a crossbow on a daily basis(?) And speaks French._

"Would you care to give me some details on your experience with that injury?" I asked.

"Well, I didn't want to go to the hospital, but Father insisted because yanking the arrow out could have caused nerve damage. So we went to the hospital and everyone's reaction to a ten year old girl with an arrow stuck in her hand was pretty much the same as yours." She held up her left hand and touched the center of her palm. "Unfortunately, there isn't much of a scar anymore." I was astonished at how calm she was about such a freak accident. But then again, I couldn't remember a single time she'd ever shown a single emotion besides what appeared to be boredom. _Either the most calm child I've ever met or still has her guard up. Possibly both. Move on to other subjects. Try her family._

"So what is your family like?" I asked. Wednesday contemplated her answer before saying,

"My father trades stocks and my mother is a housewife. I have one brother, Pugsley, and my mother is pregnant again. My grandmother and uncle both live with us along with our butler, Lurch and extra helping hand, Thing." _Comes from money. The way she dresses and acts could very easily be a way of rebelling (especially if she's from old money). _I was about to ask about further details on her family when she stood up.

"Our time is up." she said. I couldn't believe it. it seemed as though we'd only been talking for a few minutes, but I looked at my watch which confirmed that Wednesday had actually been in my office for an hour.

"Indeed it is. Well then, I'll see you tomorrow." I said. She gave me a blank look accompanied with,

"Unfortunately."

**This will possibly be my last update before Christmas (depending on if I want to be social with my extended family or not). **

**A big thank you to Child of a Broken Dawn for diagnosing Wednesday with Polydactyl(she saved me a trip to WebMD). However, I chose to go with Postaxial Polydactyl which means Wednesday has an extra little toe while Preaxial means an extra big toe or thumb.**

**Dr. Jones' secretary is based off of the character, Willie from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom(the most annoying of Indy's damsels in distress). She's named after Willie's portrayer, Kate Capshaw (the wife of Steven Spielberg). **

**You should also know that the English translation of Wednesday's ancestor's name, Tueur Brutale Femme Mal Habillée is literally, Brutal Killer Frump. Tueur meaning killer, Brutale meaning brutal, and Femme Mal Habillée meaning frump. (No I don't actually speak French, this all came from Google Translate. My second language is Spanish.)**

**I promise that you guys will know what Wednesday did to cause people to think she attempted suicide. It should be revealed in either the next chapter or the one after that. I will tell you now though that she didn't actually intend to kill herself. You just have to remember that the Addamses do things that can easily be misunderstood by outsiders.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Please review even if you think it needs work. Constructive criticism is always welcome.**

**(Wow. longest closing author's note ever)**


	3. Doctor's Secret

**Author's note: Happy New Year everyone! I hope you all had a good time while I got to gross myself out writing the beginning of this chapter(yay!). And I apologize for taking so long on it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

Here I sat. Again, awaiting the arrival of Wednesday Addams. Luckily she wasn't scheduled for about another half-hour so I had a little time to prepare myself. I felt she was close to a break, and then maybe I could get to the root of her problems. My current hypotheses was depression combined with her being very rebellious, but what I'd learned over the years is that you can never really know someone's problems unless you really know them, and I knew nothing about Wednesday. I'd finished her medical records the night before and all of her numerous injuries ranged from minor to incredibly extreme. The most recent example of the latter, was her suicide attempt. It left me with a lot of questions about her mental stability. Whenever she was around me, she seemed more like her problems were behavioral and not mental, but the reports about what exactly she did to herself told me my office door opened, I worried she'd come early, but instead, it was Kate carrying another folder of papers. She put it on the far edge of my desk.

"School records?" she asked. I nodded. Based on Wednesday's behavior in the past two sessions, I could already guess that she did very good academically, but was probably not a teacher's pet and probably wasn't very social with other kids. Before I got the chance to take a quick look at the files, Kate sat down on the edge of my desk and crossed her legs.

"How much longer until she gets here?" She asked as she eyed her perfectly manicured nails. I looked over at my wall clock.

"About twenty-five minutes. Why?" I asked. I already knew what was going to happen before Kate got off of the desk and moved around behind me. She ran her fingers through my once red, now completely gray, hair.

"Well, Stuart, I believe that is twenty-five minutes that we could spend doing much more interesting things than talking about crazy little girls." she spun my chair so I would face her, and leaned down to plant a kiss on my lips.

**The Addams Family! *snap, snap***

I smoothed down my now messy hair and retied my tie that had been thrown across the room. My relationship with Kate had been going on for almost as long as she'd been working for me. I convinced myself that it wasn't wrong because she had been the one to come onto me, but I always felt constant guilt. I'd just gotten my cardigan back on when Wednesday walked in and sat down in a chair in front of my desk.

"The sooner we talk about my 'suicide attempt' the sooner I can get my afternoons back, so why don't we just cut to the chase and skip what you think will lead to me breaking down in tears." She once again showed no emotion, whatsoever. It was starting to be a bit disturbing.

"If that's what you want to do." I went along with her. "How about you start by telling me about everything you did that day." I suggested.

"Well, it was a school day, which means I woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast with my family, and went to school. As you already know, that's where it happened." I'd dealt with a few girls that had attempted suicide and all of them had been emotional wrecks on the day they'd talked about their attempted suicides. _Very calm about the tender subject. Possibly still in denial. Will no doubt have some sort of breakdown once she talks about what led her to do it._

"And what happened at school that day, Wednesday?" I asked her calmly.

"Nothing that would make me want to kill myself, if that's what you're getting at." I was beginning to lose my temper, something psychiatrists should never do.

"Then why did you drink cyanide?" I asked her sternly. She looked me directly in the eyes and smiled slightly. I instantly wanted to look away. I'd grown up with some of the scariest and disturbing films there are, but her smile sent chills down my spine.

"It's zesty." She replied without showing any signs that she was intentionally trying to scare me. She crossed her hands in her lap and awaited a response from me.

"Wednesday. You're telling me that you drank a highly poisonous substance, on purpose, because you think it _tastes good_?" I asked in absolute disbelief. She nodded and looked to her side to gaze out the window. _Shows signs of complete mental instability and poses a constant threat to self._ She looked back at me again.

"Well, now that we've gotten that covered, I believe we can move on to more pressing issues and you'll realize that I don't need to be in therapy." she said calmly. "How about my family? You seemed pretty interested in them yesterday." She suggested. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair that was surprisingly wet with perspiration.

"Wednesday, you're getting very close to a break. We can't just move on to other subjects. She gave me a look that didn't show a shred of amusement.

"Fine, then how is _your_ family, Dr. Jones?" she asked. I cleared my throat.

"They're fine. But I don't like talking about them at work." I answered.

"You have a wife, don't you?" She asked rhetorically. For some odd reason, it gave me the feeling that something bad was going to happen to me. Wednesday didn't wait for my response.

"Does she know that you've been having an affair with your secretary?" I felt the blood drain from my face. "Judging by your facial expression, I would say she doesn't." she said.

"Wednesday, this is not an appropriate conversation to have with someone." I said in my 'psychiatrist voice'.

"Your actions haven't been very appropriate lately." She stated. "Adultery is one of the few frowned upon behaviors in today's currant society that my family actually strongly dislikes." She then stood up.

"I'm going to have to end today's session early, I have to go to my brother's court hearing." Wednesday said this as if it were a school function. I couldn't honestly say that I was surprised Wednesday had relatives that were criminals. Mental illness runs in family's and it wasn't implausible to have two siblings be unhinged. Although I couldn't help but wonder-

"You know, you should really remember to wipe that cheap pink lip-gloss off your face before you go home tonight." She answered my unasked question before spinning around on her heel and stiffly, yet gracefully, strutting out of my office like a regal corpse.

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